No Horsing Around
by Shergar
Summary: A most unusual babysitting job brings danger to the men of Hawaii Five-O


No Horsing Around

"Baby sitting what?" Chin asked in astonishment.

"Guarding," Steve corrected, scowling darkly.

"A polo pony?" Kono queried, as though he had never heard of such a creature.

"A polo pony," Steve agreed, turning his gaze on Danny, waiting for his second in command to utter the final unbelieving comment.

"Why us?" Danny asked. "Why not HPD? Surely this would be more in their purview than ours, and even that's stretching it. I would have thought private security would be more the thing."

"So would I," Steve agreed, still scowling, although Danny's questions had soothed his ire slightly. "However this particular animal is the most valuable polo pony on the planet and its rider is the son of one of the Argentinian's ruling junta. Said junta member owns the pony."

All three detectives made faces of disgust. "How valuable are polo ponies?" Chin asked.

"They rival racehorses," sighed Steve, who had had to learn this. "This one is worth about $1 million."

"For a pony?" Kono gulped. By the look on his face, he was visualising something along the lines of a Shetland pony – stout, hairy and stubborn. Danny took pity on him.

"A polo pony is a horse," explained. "They are called ponies because when the game began, they often were ponies. Now, it refers to any breed of horse which is particularly agile. Most of them have Thoroughbred in them. A polo player needs several ponies for each match, and reserves in case the best ones get injured and they often have 10 or more in their strings. Polo isn't a game for poor people."

Kono looked impressed. "How you know dis, bruddah?" he asked.

"I'd like to know the answer to that one myself," Steve agreed. He only knew because he had had it explained to him.

"I was invited to a polo match when I was dating Jane," Danny replied, referring to his girlfriend, who had been murdered a few years before. Jane had come from a wealthy background and moved in different social circles than the ones that Dan usually frequented.

"Ah," Steve nodded, filling the awkward pause that always fell when Danny mentioned Jane's name. Nothing was meant by it; it was caused by the others remembering the vibrant young woman. "That explains it."

"It was very exciting to watch," Danny went on. "But I hadn't a clue about the rules, although Jane did try to explain them to me." He shrugged and smiled slightly. "So are we babysitting – I mean guarding – the son as well?"

"Yes," Steve agreed. "And I don't expect it to be an easy job. He has a reputation as a playboy and is well known for slipping away from his bodyguards and being found, usually drunk, in some girl's bed. Once or twice, he has been lucky to escape a kidnap attempt. I want none of those shenanigans on this rock while he's here!" Steve rose and began to pace. "This polo match is a big deal, gentlemen. Polo has a loyal international following and team supporters travel all over the world. We're going to get an influx of the jet set and we need to be prepared."

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Stables had been made available for Juan Carlos Santana's string of polo ponies as well as his team mates' ponies. The horses arrived on two private jumbo jets from Los Angeles, where the last international match had been held. Fleets of horse vans had been shipped in the previous day, along with the ponies' preferred food and bedding.

Waiting on the tarmac of the airport, Danny and Steve watched in admiration as the sleek animals were unloaded in their travelling crates, mostly unperturbed by the smells and noise of the bustling area. As the grooms loaded the horses into the vans, HPD plain clothes officers climbed in to travel with them. "So where is the wonder horse?" Steve asked impatiently.

"Over there," Danny replied, pointing, as a sleek grey pony, clad in a blue rug, was backed out of a single travel crate.

Going over, Danny found himself admiring the pony. It was clearly mostly Thoroughbred, but with something else in the mix. The grey colour was unusual, too; of the dozens of ponies they had seen unloaded, this one was the only grey in a sea of bay, black and chestnut. The gelding's legs were bandaged to the knee to protect them and his tail was also tightly wrapped.

"Very handsome," Steve commented. Like Danny, Steve counted riding amongst his leisure activities. "But worth a cool million dollars?"

"Is anything worth a million dollars?" Danny asked rhetorically. "I'll never have that kind of money, so you're asking the wrong guy."

"Well, it's all yours now, Danno," Steve reminded him. He touched his friend's arm. "Be careful, Danno."

"I will be, Steve," Danny assured him. "Don't you go getting into bad habits with Juan Carlos," he teased, knowing his boss would find contact with the high-living playboy distasteful.

"Maybe I should have assigned you to guard him instead of the horse," Steve responded thoughtfully. "You are the resident playboy of Five-O after all." A glint in his eye told Danny that Steve was joking.

"At my age, I think I'm better off with the horse," Danny smiled. Sketching a goodbye, he headed over to the horsebox. Steve watched as Danny spoke briefly to the groom, stroked the horse's nose and then they all got into the box and drove out of the airport.

It had begun.

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Despite never having owned a horse of his own, Danny was very familiar and comfortable with stable routines. He had groomed, fed, watered and mucked out on a regular basis when learning to ride. He had tacked and untacked horses, cleaned the saddle and bridle and picked out their feet. He had been trodden on, bitten and kicked. None of it had put him off in the slightest.

The groom, a taciturn youth with minimal English and incredibly bandy legs, looked tired. Danny offered to walk the horse around the paddock to get the travel stiffness out of its legs while the groom, Jose, prepared the feed. Looking rather suspicious at the clearly unexpected kindness, Jose agreed nonetheless. The horse was called Icicle Whirlwind, but Danny knew it would have a stable, or pet, name that it responded to. "What is his name?" he asked.

"Icy," Jose replied. "He speaks English." He smiled shyly, sure Danny would understand. Danny smiled back. "He come from England."

"I see," Danny replied. He tugged on the reins. "Come on, Icy," he urged and the supple grey stepped out willingly behind him.

There was something very pleasurable in the simple task of walking the horse. Icy showed himself to be very affectionate, nuzzling Danny's arm as they walked and gently lipping his pockets in search of mints or horse nuts, neither of which Danny was carrying. After a lap and a bit of the paddock, Danny allowed Icy to graze, running his hand over the hogged mane and stroking the silken neck. The evening sun was warm on his shoulders, the stunning beauty of his island home all around him and life seemed really good. Despite that, Danny was well aware of the responsibilities he had at the end of a couple of lengths of flexible leather and he did not allow himself to relax. He was going to be Icy's constant companion for the next five days and nothing was going to happen to this magnificent piece of horseflesh.

The big grey lifted its head from the grass and nudged him gently, leaving a green stain on the pale, short-sleeved shirt Danny wore. Unperturbed, Danny stroked the mole-soft muzzle for a moment before leading Icy back to the stable that would be their mutual home for the next few days.

Grass stains on his clothing were the least of Danny's worries.

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Despite his unusual surroundings, Danny slept well. Both he and Icy had luxurious loose boxes; Icy's was fetlock deep in wood shavings and straw and Danny's was equipped with a comfortable camp bed. A screen on the window allowed in the soft night air, and the two halves of the door were securely bolted top and bottom from the inside. When Jose arrived to give Icy his morning feed, Danny left an HPD officer on guard while he made use of the showers and had breakfast in the grooms' quarters. The food was good and the coffee was plentiful. Nursing a second mug of coffee, Danny went back outside to resume his duties.

The stall had been mucked out, Icy groomed and fed and Jose was carefully plaiting Icy's long silver tail when a fleet of cars arrived and the Argentinian polo team disgorged from them. Steve, dressed as ever in a smart suit, was accompanying a handsome young man. Chin and Kono were with the other players.

"Danno." Steve's swift glance told Danny that his boss was glad to see him and Danny smiled.

"No problems here, Steve," he reported, answering the unasked question.

"Good." Steve nodded once. "Danno, I'd like you to meet Juan Carlos Santana. Juan Carlos, this is Detective Danny Williams, who is guarding Icicle Whirlwind for you."

"Senor Santana," Danny smiled, extending his hand.

As a cop, Danny tried not to let other people's judgements and prejudices influence his own decisions, but being a mere human being, he didn't always succeed. This was a case in point: he had accepted Steve's idea that Juan Carlos was going to be an impossibly spoiled royal pain and mega-nuisance. The man Danny met and got to know that day was none of these things. He was soft spoken, shy and self-effacing. It was a pleasant surprise. "I am pleased to meet you, Detective Williams," he replied, shaking Danny's hand. "I am very grateful to you for looking after Icy."

"It's my pleasure," Danny assured him. "Icy is magnificent."

A smile crossed the young polo player's face. It made him, impossibly, even better looking. "Icy is very special to me," Juan Carlos said, putting his hand out to the horse. Icy snorted a welcome and insinuated his muzzle under Juan Carlos' hand. After a moment, Icy lipped the pocket of Juan Carlos' polo shirt and was rewarded with a mint. "That is all, greedy," Juan Carlos chided lovingly as the horse hinted that it wanted another. "We have work to do." He nodded to both Steve and Danny. "If you will excuse me…" He disappeared into the tack room and emerged with Icy's saddle and bridle in hand.

Watching in silence until all the players were in the practice arena, the four detectives gathered to watch. "How was your night really, Danno?" Steve asked.

"I slept fine, Steve," Danny replied truthfully. "Kono snores more than Icy." He nudged the tall Hawaiian in the ribs.

"Good," Steve replied, pretending not to hear Kono's mumbled remark about the horse's capabilities for breaking wind. Chin smothered a chuckle in a cough.

"What about your night?" Danny asked, fighting to keep a straight face as Kono blew his nose with a good deal more vigour than was required. "Did you hit all the swinging spots in Waikiki?"

"Juan Carlos spent the night alone in his room," Steve replied. "It appears that his reputation is not only exaggerated, but, according to his bodyguard, well in the past. Argentina's most eligible bachelor recently got engaged and rarely played the field before that."

"You must be very disappointed," Danny murmured. "I know how much you were looking forward to joining him each evening."

The scorching look Steve sent his subordinates bounced harmlessly off their amusement. Sighing, he glanced at his watch. "Danno, you are in charge of Juan Carlos until I return. I understand that practice will continue for most of the day. Chin; Kono; you have your orders."

"Right, Steve," Danny replied, sobering. It was unlikely that anything would happen, but they had to be on alert. Steve nodded his approval and headed over to his car. Danny, Kono and Chin moved to take up defensive, watchful positions.

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There was only one way to keep an eye on Juan Carlos and Icy when the grey was through with practice and that was for Danny to walk the horse around the adjoining arena as the horse cooled down. Once the horse was cool, Danny ordered Chin and Kono to keep an eye on Juan Carlos while he watched Jose wash the horse down. When Icy was cool and dry, he was turned out for a little liberty, allowing Danny to perch on the paddock fence and keep an eye on both his charges.

With practice finally over, the other players made their way back to the cars that had brought them, leaving their grooms to see to the ponies. Juan Carlos, his helmet dangling from his fingers, joined Danny at the paddock railing. Icy ambled over.

"I don't know anything about polo," Danny confessed, "but you guys looked really impressive out there."

"Thank you," Juan Carlos replied, "but we were not really doing much. Just practicing shooting and stick work; putting the ponies through their paces to make sure they all travelled well. We did not do much."

"I ride," Danny objected, "and I couldn't do half of those things on a horse!"

Smiling Juan Carlos shook his head. "I could not do your job," he responded. "I have trained for many years to play polo and I am fortunate to have wonderful ponies to ride that make me look good. What you do is important. I cannot say the same. It is just frivolous fun."

"Everyone needs some frivolous fun in their lives," Danny replied. "I think you have great skill."

"It is very kind of you to say so." Juan Carlos was actually blushing. He patted Icy in silence until the grey wandered off to crop the grass. The other ponies were being turned out to grass now, too. "My team mates and I are going out for a quiet pre-match dinner tonight," he offered. "I would be honoured if you would be my guest as well as your fellow detectives."

"That is very kind of you and it would be my honour to join you, but regretfully, I can't do it," Danny replied formally. "I am not due to be relieved from guarding Icy until you leave Hawaii, but thank you so much."

Genuine disappointment crossed the younger man's face. "I wish that were not so," Juan Carlos sighed. Then he brightened. "If I order a nice meal brought to you here, could you accept that?"

Strictly speaking, the answer should be no, as cops were not supposed to accept gifts, which could be viewed as bribes. Danny did not want to hurt the young man's feelings. "If Steve – Mr McGarrett – says it's okay, that would be very welcome."

"I shall ask him as soon as he arrives," Juan Carlos declared. "And look – there he is now," he added happily as Steve's big Mercury swept up the gravelled drive to the stables.

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Luckily for Danny, Steve agreed and later on that evening, a sumptuous three course meal was delivered from one of the best restaurants on the island. It was another restful, quiet night and Danny was ready when the horses were loaded into the vans to go to the polo grounds at Waialua.

The match that day was a 'friendly' with only nominal prize money. The big match was scheduled for the following day with a cup and major prize money provided by a big business sponsor. It was quite a coup for the fledgling polo club.

Horse lines were set up in the shade and Danny was not the only person watching the horses. Icy, he'd learned, was only going to play half a chukka to keep him fresh for the big match. There was a good turn-out of spectators, keeping the detectives on their toes watching for trouble, but the match went off without a hitch and the home team won by a single point. Danny travelled back to the stables and changed from his Five-O suit into his more casual and appropriate jeans and Aloha shirt. The evening wound down, with a meal from the grooms' canteen and Danny settled down to read in the last rays of the setting sun. Icy was munching contentedly on hay.

Danny had just entered the stable and put on the light when a loud, anguished cry sounded from somewhere nearby. Icy stopped munching and raised his head, his ears twitching thoughtfully as he listened.

Resisting the urge to race outside, for the cry could easily be a diversion, Danny watched the horse. The animal's senses were keener than his and Danny knew that when the horse relaxed and began eating again, he could relax, too. However, Icy remained alert and Danny could feel the tension in the air. Someone was out there. Drawing his gun, Danny reached for his radio to summon back-up.

At that very moment, a resounding crash buckled the bolts on the door. Icy snorted, flinching violently and blundered across his box. Danny made no move to soothe the startled horse. There was a second crash and the door flew open. Two men dived in.

Despite having a bead on the door, Danny's shot missed both men as they came in low. He had no chance to get off a second shot as he was tackled to the floor, going down under the combined weight. Nonetheless, he fought as best he could, getting in a couple of good blows before he was overcome. His hands were yanked behind him and tightly tied. A gag was thrust into his mouth and a hood went over his head. He kicked out in desperation and received a shove in response. His head crashed heavily off the solid wood partition of the loose box and Danny slumped down, barely conscious. Dimly, he was aware of Icy plunging and neighing and the sound of hooves on wood as the frightened horse kicked out. Then agitated hooves clopped past inches from his head and Danny blacked out.

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The evening had been quiet. Steve did not mind that. He sat in the sitting room of Juan Carlos' suite doing paperwork while the polo player watched some TV and phoned his fiancée back home. Before too much longer, Steve thought, glancing surreptitiously at his watch, Duke would be there to relieve him for the night and he could get some sleep.

"Would you like something to eat, Mr McGarrett?" Juan Carlos asked, perusing the room service menu. "I am going to have something sent up and it would be my pleasure if you joined me."

"Thank you, that's very kind," Steve replied, "but I ate at the office before I came here." Steve was singularly unmotivated by food and the sandwiches that his secretary had provided earlier had been more than sufficient. He pretended to read a report as he listened to Juan Carlos ordering a very substantial 'snack'. The young polo player was very muscular and Steve guessed that he would have to eat many small meals every day to keep his body supplied properly. Polo was a very physical sport.

Putting aside his reading, he joined Juan Carlos in watching the evening news, commenting on the reporting of that afternoon's match. Steve was glad to hear it put in such a good light and hoped that would boost the number of spectators the following day. Juan Carlos was more interested in how good Icy looked on camera and critically studied the other horses and riders, pointing out small defects in their style and explaining how that would help him play better against the other team the next day. Steve still knew nothing about polo, but the explanation was interesting.

At the knock on the door, Juan Carlos rose, but Steve was quicker. "Stay there," he ordered and went cautiously over. "Who is it?"

"Room service," replied a voice with a local accent.

Still cautious, Steve unlocked the door and opened it slightly, looking out to verify that it was indeed the room service trolley. Satisfied, he swung the door open, but it hadn't moved more than a few inches when the waiter on the other side added his considerable weight to it. The door crashed into Steve and knocked him off balance. The 'waiter' barrelled into the room.

Without bothering to regain his feet, Steve lunged at the intruder who, he noticed, had a gun. "Get down!" he shouted at Juan Carlos and blessed the younger man's razor-edge reflexes as he dived swiftly to the floor.

As fights went, this one was dirty. The 'waiter' had no compunction about kicking and biting as well as punching and a couple of shots echoed in the room as Steve fought the brawny thug for possession of the gun. He had no chance to draw his own weapon and traded punches as best he could. Fortunately for Steve, the fight was pretty short-lived, as the gun shots had drawn the attention of the police guard, who hurried to the room. With the arrival of extra bodies, the 'waiter' was finally subdued and dragged off Steve, who slumped to the floor, breathing heavily and feeling rather pulped.

"Steve!" It was Duke. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Steve replied, although he was now becoming aware of a trickle on his face. He swiped at it and his fingers came away bloody. His head started stinging.

"You're bleeding," Duke observed.

"Never mind me, what about Juan Carlos?" Steve demanded, trying to sit up. Duke prevented him.

"He's fine," Duke informed the boss, glancing at the shaken young man standing at the other side of the room. He finally let Steve sit up, seeing that if he didn't, there would most likely be a volcanic explosion that had very little to do with Pele. He produced a handkerchief from his pants' pocket and pressed it to Steve's head.

"Juan Carlos?" Steve blinked the sweat out of his eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Thanks to you, Mr McGarrett." Juan Carlos wiped a shaking hand over his face and sat down on the couch. "Who is he? What does he want of me?"

"I'm about to find that out." Steve gently shook off Duke's ministrations and headed out into the hall. The HPD officers had the burly imposter cuffed and another officer was tending to the genuine waiter. "Who are you?" Steve asked.

His only reply was a sneering look. A search of his pockets revealed no identification. "Take him to the Palace," Steve ordered. "Check his prints." He glanced at Duke. "You stay here with Juan Carlos, Duke. Get someone to radio Danno to let him know what happened and be on alert. We don't want anything to happen to the horse."

There was a snort of laughter from the prisoner. Steve spun around, ignoring the momentary feeling of being light-headed, and lunged at the man. "What does that mean?" he demanded. He shook the prisoner, shaking off the restraining hands. "Tell me!"

"You too late, haole," the thug taunted. "Dat horse just dog meat now and your pig ain't no better."

"Get him to the Palace," Steve said, unnaturally calm. "Get Chin and Kono over there to question him. Duke, stay with Juan Carlos."

"If something has happened to Icy, I have the right to know," Juan Carlos insisted. He was pale, but determined. "Please," he added quietly.

"All right," Steve relented. "Duke, come with us. Someone raise Danny on the radio and patch him through to my car." He headed for the lift at a brisk walk.

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The drive to the stables was torture for all the men in the car. Steve and Duke were anxious about Danny, who was not responding to his radio, and Juan Carlos, although concerned about the policeman he had befriended, was also very worried about his beloved horse. Icy was more than just a wonderful polo pony; Juan Carlos loved all of his horses and the thought that someone would do harm to them was unbearable. Whatever grudge anyone might have against him or his uncle, the horses were innocent.

Steve had expected to find the stables all lit up, with people milling everywhere, but it was pretty quiet when they arrived. The officer on the gate, a good half-mile from the stables, had not heard any rumpus of any kind. His disquiet growing, Steve drove quickly up to the stable block and leapt from the car. There was very little noise, although the horses could be heard moving about restlessly. The moon was obscured by clouds, but the security lights were enough to show Steve that Icy's stall door was open. Drawing his weapon, he approached cautiously.

The stall was empty, but for a crumpled figure on the floor. "Danno!" Steve threw himself to his friend's side, shaking fingers reaching to remove the hood. Danny's eyes were closed, his face bathed in sweat and he was gasping for breath. Steve quickly pulled the gag from his friend's mouth. "Danno!"

Slowly, Danny's eyes opened and his breathing started to calm. He looked dazed and Steve quickly felt Danny's head for lumps as Duke worked on the rope that was keeping the younger man prisoner. Juan Carlos stood in the doorway, his eyes glued to Icy's empty stall. "Steve?" Danny winced as Steve's fingers found the bump on his head.

"Easy, Danno," Steve soothed. He flicked a quick glance at Juan Carlos. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Someone shouted outside," Danny remembered. "I didn't go out. Icy was still listening, so I drew my gun. Then they broke the door down. I shot at them, but missed. We fought…" He swallowed. "Sorry, Steve," he apologised. "Sorry, Juan Carlos."

"We need to get you checked over," Steve told him. "Duke, I want every available man out here right now to look for the horse. They obviously haven't used a horse van, or the officer at the gate would have mentioned it, so they are most likely on foot."

"I'll get them to bring flashlights," Duke agreed and after patting Danny on the back, headed out to the car to radio for back-up.

"Can you stand?" Steve asked and when Danny nodded doubtfully, he helped the shorter man to his feet and walked him outside. Danny was initially unsteady on his feet, but improved as he went into the fresh air. His head was throbbing, but Danny was determined to do what he had to do to get the horse back. It was his fault that Icy was missing in the first place. It had not escaped him that neither Steve nor Juan Carlos had absolved him of blame.

Reinforcements arrived and the ambulance was not far behind. Danny submitted to being checked over, but his injuries were superficial. He refused to go to the hospital, insisting he wasn't concussed and as soon as he could escape, he grabbed a flashlight and joined in the search.

It was hard going, as the ground was covered in hoof prints from the various horses. The men spread far and wide and Juan Carlos stood by Steve's car, biting his nails. Steve, taking his responsibilities to Juan Carlos seriously, was also by the car, ostensibly supervising the search.

A call came over the radio and Steve ducked into the car. It was Chin. "Boss, we got an ID on your waiter. His name is Maleko Palakiki. He usually works in a hole-in-the-wall surf shop off Waikiki, the one we think is a front for the mob."

"I know where you are. Have you got anything else?"

"Kono is talking to him," Chin replied. "But from a couple of things he let slip, I think the mob was out to make a quick buck out of kidnapping Juan Carlos and the horse."

"Since they only have the horse, how will they react?" Steve mused aloud. "Good work, Chin. Keep at him. Let's see if we can find out where they might have taken Icy."

"Will do," Chin signed off.

"Do you think they will hurt Icy?" Juan Carlos asked.

"No," Steve replied thoughtfully. "I suspect they will just increase the amount of money they expect you to pay to get him back. You will pay to get him back, won't you?"

"I will pay anything," Juan Carlos vowed. "I know he is just a horse, but he is my horse and all my horses are special to me." He rubbed a hand over his face, wiping off betraying moisture. "I need to tell Detective Williams that this is not his fault. It was remiss of me not to say so earlier. I did not mean to be rude."

"I should say something to him, too," Steve agreed. "And I need to make sure that he isn't doing too much." Together, the two men headed over to where Danny was searching. Steve frowned, as he couldn't see the flashlight beam and a niggle of worry crossed his mind. Danny hadn't passed out, had he?

The area where Danny should have been was deserted. Steve peered into the darkness, but there was nothing. No sound, no movement, no light. It was as though Danny had just vanished off the face of the earth.

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The throbbing of his head combined with his guilty feelings for not keeping Icy safe made Danny feel dreadful. He resolutely joined in the search, narrowing his eyes unconsciously as he peered at the myriad of hoof prints revealed in the beam from his flashlight. He kept away from his fellow officers, unwilling to talk to them. The hoof prints were hopelessly muddled. He leaned for a moment against the fence and forced his aching brain to think this through.

The police guard at the gate had heard nothing. There were a few men patrolling the perimeter, but the stables and paddocks covered quite a few acres of ground and they did not have enough men to provide blanket coverage on grounds of this size. Obviously, the thieves were not going to use a horse van or exit by the gate. There were not a lot of horse vans on the roads of Oahu at any time of day or night, so one would be remembered. So, working on the premise that they had left the area on foot, Danny tried to visualise the surrounding area.

There was an area of rough ground to the east, with low, tough, scrubby bushes that made passing through the area tricky even in day light. With a valuable horse, it could be a disaster, assuming that they wanted to ransom the animal. It was also too near the gate for them to guarantee they would not be spotted.

To the north, there was a range of mountains and although the area was criss-crossed with walking tracks, again it was not suitable for horses. Besides that, the mountains were far too steep for an animal to climb. Danny discounted that direction, too.

That left only the west side, as to the south lay the highway, with too many chances of being seen. While the ground to the west was not bowling green smooth, it was certainly passable for horses. There was no exit from the stables that way, but Danny doubted if a small detail like that would bother a thief. With that thought in mind, he squared his shoulders and trudged over the paddock. It didn't occur to him to tell anyone where he was going and in the confusion of the search, nobody noticed him leave.

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"Where can he be?" Steve muttered. He gazed out into the darkness. Danny had vanished without a trace and Steve was reluctant to send more men out into the warm, scented darkness in case someone – or something – was lurking unseen there, waiting for the unwary. The big worry was that Danny had wandered off and collapsed, lying unconscious somewhere, more badly hurt than had originally been thought. Steve had to fight the urge to charge off heedlessly in search of his friend.

Slumped in the passenger seat of Steve's car, Juan Carlos looked as strained and worried as Steve felt. Impulsively, Steve put his hand on the younger man's should and gave a sympathetic squeeze. "If I know Danno, he's out there tracking your horse," he commented, hoping that this likely scenario was the truth. It was exactly what Danny would do – and the thought that his friend had ignored his injuries to do just that both worried Steve and made him feel proud of Danny's determination and tenacity.

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It was not an easy trek. The ground was not too bad, but in the light of a shaded flashlight, it wasn't the easiest, either. Still, Danny was convinced that this was the way they had brought the horse and the broken fence at the end of the paddock had confirmed his theory. The ground was dry and showed little signs of their passing, but Danny doggedly trudged on and finally, more than an hour after leaving the stables behind, he found a single hoof print in a patch of softer earth beside a stream.

The sense of relief was almost Danny's undoing. His persistent headache suddenly worsened, something Danny had not thought possible, and he sank down, closing his eyes and switching off the flashlight to seek the solace of darkness. It did help a little and Danny allowed himself to drift. It was only when his head dropped sharply, triggering a burst of pain, that he became aware of how close he had been to sleeping. He forced himself to switch the flashlight on again and splashed his face with the cool water from the stream, gulping down a couple of mouthfuls. Scrambling to his feet, telling himself that he felt better, he set off again with renewed hope.

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"You should go back to the hotel and get some rest," Steve suggested.

"I cannot," Juan Carlos replied wearily. "Not until I know what happened to Detective Williams and Icy." He looked bone weary and somehow gaunt, his eyes shadowed with worry. He glanced at Steve. "You, too, need rest."

"And will not get it for the same reason as you," Steve acknowledged with a small smile. His initial anger with Danny had now been solely replaced by anxiety. He had to believe that Danny had left the stables of his own volition, but every now and then, he feared that Danny had been kidnapped, or that his injured detective had collapsed somewhere out in the darkness. The police helicopter was on stand-by to take off at first light. In the meantime, there was nothing they could do. The waiting and not knowing was horrendous.

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There was the suggestion of dawn in the sky as Danny sank down behind a large bush and peered at the structures ahead of him. Tucked down in a valley, far away from any road, was a small wooden shack, with an equally rickety outbuilding nearby. There was far too much movement around the buildings for that time of the morning. The light was provided by lanterns, and Danny squinted through the leaves of the bush and the uncertain light below, trying to make out what was going on.

He counted three people, although that did not mean there were not more inside the shack. One man held onto Icy's lead rope. The other two appeared to be removing 'stuff' from inside the out building. Danny assumed that they were going to stash the horse there, out of sight. From what he could see, the horse appeared to be uninjured.

There was no way that Danny was going to rush three men, especially with Icy right there in the line of fire. Danny touched his revolver reassuringly. He had no recollections of picking it up; habit must have done that for him, but he was glad of its comforting weight. Danny watched as they led the horse into the out building. He prayed that they wouldn't mount a guard, because his only real option was to steal the horse back and hope to get away cleanly, before they realised what was going on. If they placed a guard, his task would become much harder.

Tense, impatient, Danny waited in concealment while the men stood around and talked. The light was growing rapidly, and finally the three men went inside. Danny forced himself to wait some more. The light would be better for moving quickly if he did, and perhaps the men would be asleep. He rubbed his temples, wishing his headache away, wishing he had some water, and forced himself to plan a route down to the out building.

At last he set out, knowing that he should have probably waited longer, but knowing that Juan Carlos was anxiously waiting for word on his stolen horse. Quietly, moving from bush to bush, Danny crept down. The sun was peeking over the horizon now, but Danny had no time to admire the sunrise. He reached the out building and eased the door open. Mercifully, it didn't squeak. Icy snuffled and Danny moved quickly to place his hand on the horse's muzzle, smothering any welcoming whinny the horse might make.

The out building wasn't fit to keep a pig in, never mind a horse of Icy's quality. Icy's lead rope was tied to a rusting metal ring set into the wooden wall. If the horse pulled sharply enough, the ring would most likely come straight out of the crumbly wood. Untying the lead rope, Danny turned the horse gently. "Come on, fella," he urged softly.

There wasn't room to mount in the low building. Danny had no bridle, so he would have to rely on hands and heels to keep the horse going in the right direction. He led Icy away from the shack and when they were clear, he paused and grasped the horse's neck. With a pull on that arm and a mighty jump, he gained a bareback seat, clutching the lead rope in one hand. Touching his heels to the warm sides, he urged, "Let's go, boy."

But luck was not with him. He had taken no more than a few steps when a voice behind him shouted. Glancing over his shoulder, Danny saw that the men had not gone straight to sleep, as he had hoped. One of them brandished a gun. There was no time to waste. Danny clapped his heels to Icy's sides and the horse went straight from walk to gallop. A bullet sang past, and Danny ducked, almost losing his seating. He leaned low along Icy's neck, wishing the flying grey had a mane for him to grab.

From behind came the throaty roar of an engine. Danny risked a backward glance and saw that they had a couple of motorbikes. There was no way they could outrun bikes, but nonetheless, Danny urged more speed from his fleeing mount.

The chase was on.

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"Central to McGarrett." The radio call seemed very loud in the stillness of the car. Juan Carlos startled awake from a light sleep. Steve uncoiled his limbs and reached for the mic. He had closed his eyes but sleep had eluded him. "McGarrett," Steve responded.

"The helicopter is in the air, heading for your location," the dispatcher informed him. "ETA 10 minutes. Kono is on board."

"10-4," Steve acknowledged. He had done his best to keep his worry in check as the night had worn on, but it hadn't been easy. With the prospect of action, he felt a surge of energy and a resurgence of hope that Danny was all right.

"May I come with you?" Juan Carlos asked.

"I'm afraid not," Steve replied gently. "There won't be room and there is a risk to your safety. This is an unknown situation."

Looking crestfallen, Juan Carlos nodded his understanding. He remained in the car as Steve alighted and beckoned to a near-by uniformed officer, charging the man with Juan Carlos' safety.

It wasn't too long before the 'whaup-whaup' of the helicopter blades could be heard, although Steve felt as though his patience had long gone. The machine landed in one of the big paddocks and Steve ducked beneath the whirling blades to climb in beside Kono. The big detective nodded a greeting and solemnly handed Steve a set of headphones. Steve quickly donned them and spoke to the pilot. "I want to look at the back of this property," he instructed. "We're looking for a place the fence might be down."

Obligingly, the pilot flew slowly over the whole area as Steve and Kono peered intently through binoculars so as not to miss anything. "There!" Kono exclaimed, pointing. "Right there!"

Following the pointing finger, Steve saw the broken fence. With a brief word, he sent the chopper heading in that direction.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Riding bareback was never as easy as it was made to seem on TV. A horse's spine is a very bony, hard seat and the short, sleek hide was slippery. Danny had no mane to grasp to aid his balance and no reins to guide the horse. Icy responded to leg commands, but it was far harder to give those commands when you needed to tighten your thighs and knees to keep your seat. There was a lot to say in favour of a saddle!

So far, Danny had kept well ahead of his pursuers, for Icy was fleet of foot and there was some cover. Danny had no idea as to Icy's parentage, but he suspected there was a large amount of Thoroughbred blood in him and the horse's speed tended to back up that theory. Still, Thoroughbred or not, Icy could not keep up such a headlong pace indefinitely and Danny could already sense the animal was slowing.

Sitting up from his position crouched over the horse's withers Danny felt the corresponding slowing and was glad that this signal was part of the universal language of the horse. As Icy went from a gallop to a canter, then to a bumpy trot, Danny added his voice to his posture, urging the horse to "whoa." He tugged on the lead rope hopefully, but that had little discernable effect. However, Icy was slowing now of his own accord and fell into a smooth walk, his sleek, sweat-stained flanks heaving. Danny patted the hot, damp neck. He would give the horse as long a breather as he could.

From behind, the ominous, steady drone of the motorcycles could still be heard.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While the helicopter gave them an advantage, Steve and Kono were still looking for a horse-sized needle in an island-sized haystack. The tension was mounting in the machine as the search continued with no sign of either Danny or the horse. Steve was almost vibrating with frustration. It was as though Danny and Icy had vanished off the face of the earth. Forcibly relaxing his jaw, Steve continued to scan the ground as they began a new search pattern over a new area.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Icy walked on, Danny wished he could stop and dismount for a while to allow both himself and the horse to rest. The bikes were drawing ever closer and Danny was rapidly running out of cover. They would soon be forced onto clearer land and then, he knew, their luck would run out. Danny wondered what he had been thinking the night before when he left without saying anything. He almost laughed. He hadn't been thinking at all and he was still aware that his thought processes were not as clear as they might be. His headache was more than a nuisance.

With absolutely no warning, Icy shied, leaping sideways in a violent movement that all but dislodged Danny from his precarious seat. Frantically, Danny grabbed at the silky grey neck in front of him and somehow retained his balance. He had no idea what had startled Icy, but that didn't matter: the grey was in headlong flight and Danny could only cling on helplessly.

From behind, the motorcycle engines sprang into snarling life as they were revved to a higher speed as the fugitives were spotted.

There was no point in trying to steer Icy. Whatever had spooked him had done a thorough job and he was well and truly beyond control. Danny clung on, his pants legs soaked by sweat from the horse's coat and the wind rushing against his face made his eyes water. He hoped that he wouldn't fall off, because at the speed they were going, he would certainly sustain some injury.

A bullet sang past. It was a remarkably accurate and very lucky shot. Shooting at a moving target from a moving vehicle was a waste of ammunition – unless the marksman got lucky. As Icy stumbled and Danny slithered around on his back, he thought there was more than one way for the marksman to get lucky. He didn't have to be miraculously accurate; he could simply fire often enough to cause the horse to stumble and on the uncertain footing, the horse would go down.

As both horse and rider recovered, another noise assailed Danny's ears. Before he had identified it, a helicopter appeared over the brow of the hill in front of them. Icy reared and Danny slid off backwards, hitting the ground with a thump that knocked the wind out of him. He felt an incredibly painful jolt in his shoulder and the lead rope burned across his palm as Icy pulled away and then Danny knew no more.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Any number of things happened all at the same time and it wasn't until much later that Steve got it all sorted out to his own satisfaction. The helicopter swept over the brow of a hill and suddenly bullets were pinging against the skin of the whirly-bird. The pilot let out an incoherent curse and heeled the machine away sharply. Below, Steve could make out a white blur, but it was only as the machine turned again that Steve realised it was a horse. "Set it down!" he bellowed. "Now!"

It was a redundant order. The chopper was sounding rough and the pilot set it down immediately, despite the less than optimal ground. Steve ripped off the headphones and jumped from the chopper, drawing his gun. Kono followed closely behind.

Cautiously topping the hill on their bellies, Steve got his first look at the scene below. A grey horse – Icy, Steve assumed – was standing at some distance away, the lead rope from the halter seemingly caught in the branches of a scrubby bush. The horse's legs were braced and its sides were heaving. Steve had the sense that the horse was living on its very last nerve.

Slightly further away, a pair of motorcycles lay on their sides on the ground and two armed men were advancing warily on Icy and an indistinct shape on the ground a short distance from the horse. They appeared to be unaware of the two Five-O officers as yet.

The helicopter engine coughed and fell silent. Both armed men glanced up instinctively, guns lowering slightly and Steve knew it was time to make their move. He leapt to his feet, aware of Kono barely a heartbeat behind. "Five-O! Freeze!" Steve ordered.

He had no expectation that the men would obey him and he was already taking a careful aim as the guns came up again. There was a brief exchange of gun fire and then both the men were down.

Quickly but carefully, for the footing was not of the best, Steve and Kono cautiously approached them men, confiscating their weapons and cuffing the men. Their injuries were not life threatening, but were painful enough that Steve felt confident leaving Kono alone with them. He straightened up and looked around.

A single glance at the shape on the ground told both Steve and Kono its identity. "Danno!" Steve knelt by the sandy-haired detective and felt for a pulse. One was banging away strongly under his fingers and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Kono, we need help here," Steve ordered.

"On it, boss," Kono replied and vanished over the hill with a speed that belied his size.

Keeping a wary eye on the prisoners, Steve gave Danny a cursory examination. He would be the first to admit that he was no doctor, but it was obvious even to his inexperienced eye that there was something seriously wrong with Danny's shoulder. He was concerned with his friend's continued unconsciousness, but even as he thought that, Danny sighed and groaned. Bleary blue eyes fluttered open and Danny squinted against the bright sky. "Steve? What…? How…?" Sudden clarity flashed across his face and Danny tried to sit up. A cry of anguish escaped his lips as his body rebelled.

"Easy, easy, aikane," Steve soothed, too late. "Don't try to get up."

From the clenched jaw, gritted teeth and frown, Steve could clearly see that Danny was in pain, but his friend's mind was clear, as he proved moments later. "Icy! Where's Icy?"

"He's right here," Steve replied. He glanced briefly at the horse, which seemed to have relaxed fractionally, then returned his attention to the prisoners. "I'll get him as soon as Kono gets back."

"I'll get him," Danny insisted and again tried to sit up. His face blanched as pain shot through his shoulder and down his arm. Danny groaned and bit his lip.

"Stay still!" Steve urged, worried by Danny's colour and obvious pain. "The horse can wait. I can't get it and help you and keep an eye on these guys."

Squinting at the prisoners, Danny swallowed. "They were the ones who took Icy," he told his boss.

The anger that had been simmering under the surface all night suddenly broke free with the relief that Danny was more or less okay. "What were you thinking?" he demanded. "Going off alone like that?!"

Sore, exhausted, Danny crumbled under Steve's ire. "Guess I wasn't thinking," he admitted. "My head hurts too much. I just wanted to get Icy back for Juan Carlos." He sounded completely miserable and contrite. "I'm sorry."

Swamped by guilt that he had made his friend feel even worse than he already did, Steve silently cursed his temper. "I'm the one who's sorry," he declared. "I was … worried about you." He was still worried. The continuing headache suggested to Steve that Danny might have a concussion. It was almost certainly in response to Steve's anger the night before that Danny had reacted as he had done. Steve knew he would never have forgiven himself if something had happened to Danny.

The rattling of a small shower of stones down the hill announced Kono's return. "Da pilot already called for help," he reported. He peered down at his friend. "Howzit, Danny?"

"Been better," Danny admitted. He tried to look healthy, but fooled neither of his colleagues.

"Kono, you keep those two under guard while I get the horse," Steve ordered.

"I'll get him," Danny insisted. He somehow made it to a sitting position. "Icy is stressed, but he knows me. Please, Steve."

Even though he was positive that the last thing Danny should be doing was walking about with an injured shoulder and possible concussion, Steve could see the sense of Danny's words. They really didn't need the horse to vanish off into the wide blue yonder. "All right," he capitulated. "Let me help you."

In the end, Kono lifted Danny to his feet and held him until he regained his equilibrium. Steve then took Danny's weight and guided him over the rough ground to within a few feet of Icy. The horse, still caught, snorted and stamped a threatening foot. Danny gently freed himself and stood still for a moment before slowly extending his good hand. "Hey, old fella. What's the fuss about?" he asked calmly.

Although Steve liked horses and enjoyed riding, he had never really spent a lot of time with a mount when he wasn't actually riding. It was fascinating to watch Danny calm the horse with just his voice, but he remained alert in case the horse suddenly panicked and kicked out at the injured man. It took several minutes, and Danny was shaking as he finally was able to run his good hand down the trembling neck. It was difficult to disentangle the lead rope one-handed, but he managed it at last, leading Icy away from the bush to a clearer area of ground. With Steve following slowly, Danny was grateful for the help in sinking to the spongy turf. After a few minutes of sniffing the air and eyeing Steve suspiciously, Icy finally lowered his head and began to graze. Danny handed the lead rope to Steve. Seeing the exhaustion and pain etched on Danny's face, Steve moved so that he was supporting the younger man. "Help will be here soon," he promised. "Just rest."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Help arrived in the form of several HPD officers, a couple of ambulance attendants, a doctor, Juan Carlos and Jose, Icy's groom. It was hard to tell who was happier to see the grey; Juan Carlos or Jose. Both approached slowly and there were tears in both men's eyes. "Thank you, Detective Williams," Juan Carlos breathed. "Thank you."

While Jose took charge of the grey, running knowledgeable hands down the slim legs look for heat or swelling, Steve gritted his teeth while the doctor checked over the prisoners. He thought that Danny should really come first, as it seemed obvious to him that Danny was more seriously injured. The younger man, having relinquished his responsibility to Jose, had slumped heavily against Steve's shoulder, his eyes closed.

As the doctor finally knelt by Danny, the HPD officers started to shepherd the prisoners away. Kono came over to look worriedly over Steve's shoulder. "Well?" Steve demanded of the doctor. Why couldn't they have sent Doc out? Steve was not sure this earnest youngster really knew his business.

"His shoulder is dislocated, he is dehydrated and his uneven pupils tell me he likely has a concussion," the doctor replied calmly. "Apart from that, I suspect moderate muscle strain and mild abrasions. Detective Williams will need to go to hospital for further examination and treatment." The doctor signalled to the attendants, who had brought a portable stretcher. Danny was gently placed on it, given a shot for pain and his shoulder immobilised. Kono grasped two handles and one of the attendants took the other two and they began the slow walk back to the stables.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The afternoon was perfect, with blue skies, fluffy white clouds and gloriously warm sunshine. There were crowds aplenty at the polo grounds and they were seemingly unperturbed by the very evident police presence. Steve stayed close to Juan Carlos. He, Kono and Chin had spent the morning questioning the men they had in custody, but none of them were talking. Steve had no more idea who was behind the attempts on Juan Carlos and Icy than he had had when he first arrested the perpetrators. It was frustrating. The threat might be gone – or it might have escalated.

Along the horse lines, Kono was standing guard over a grey polo pony. Only someone very familiar with horses in general and Icy in particular would realise that this grey was not the famous Icicle Whirlwind. Icy, while unharmed, was not going to be risked in the afternoon match. He was back at the stable, discreetly guarded and this grey had been borrowed and 'dressed' to resemble the star. If any attempt was made to harm or steal the horse, the real, ultra-valuable animal would not be put at risk. The ringer did not have the equable temperament of the real Icy and the owner had guaranteed to Steve that it would almost certainly savage anyone who tried to interrupt its nap on the horse lines. Kono was keeping a wary distance from those large, yellow teeth.

Juan Carlos emerged from the changing room, dressed ready for the match, his helmet and stick dangling from one hand. "Have you heard anything?" he asked, his expression a curious mixture of apprehension and anticipation.

"No," Steve replied regretfully. "But I promise I will keep you safe."

"I know you will," the younger man assured him. "I have every faith in Five-O." He smiled sadly. "Detective Williams showed me exactly how far you and your men are prepared to go to fulfil your promises."

"Yes," Steve agreed. He had last seen Danny when his second was loaded into the ambulance. Doc Bergman, who was the coroner when he wasn't patching up the Five-O detectives, had phoned Steve a couple of hours later.

"Danny's shoulder is back in place," Doc reported. "He has a mild concussion, too. He had bruises all over, especially on his backside, back and inner thighs, apparently from riding a horse bareback and being thrown off backwards. Is that true?"

"I suspect so," Steve had replied. He had not asked Danny what had happened.

"Humph," Doc grunted. "Well, he's going to be here for a few days and I don't want any escape attempts. Is that clear?"

"It's clear," Steve agreed. "Take good care of him."

"Don't I always?" Doc had sounded indignant.

There was a police guard on Danny's hospital room, just in case whoever was at the back of the kidnap and murder attempts decided to up the stakes by taking the injured detective. It was highly unlikely, but Steve was taking no chances.

There was a carnival atmosphere as the polo club laid on various entertainments, including trying to explain the rules of the game to the uninitiated. Steve was too busy surveying the crowd to pay any attention to the lesson. His sixth sense told him there would be trouble, but he didn't know where the trouble would come from.

The first match of the day, between the Hawaiian Polo Club and the Argentinian B players, kicked off the main part of the afternoon. Juan Carlos, with Steve a faithful shadow, cheered on his team mates. Steve was amused that the usually soft-spoken Juan Carlos was shouting encouragement and abuse in almost equal measure at the top of his voice.

It was a closely fought contest, but the Argentinians won by a single point. The Hawaiian crowd, naturally disappointed that the home team did not win, applauded generously. The match had been fast, furious and thoroughly entertaining.

As officials went around treading in the divots of grass that had been gouged by hooves and sticks, Juan Carlos went towards the horse lines to claim the pony he was going to ride in the first chukka. The fiery red chestnut was already dancing on its toes as a groom tightened the girth. One of the B team Argentinian players, dismounting from a lathered, blowing bay, gave Juan Carlos a murderous glare.

"Who is that?" Steve asked, returning the glare with full measure and placing himself between the men.

"That," Juan Carlos sighed heavily, "is my cousin Hector Gellada." He shrugged. "There is bad blood between us."

"Why?" Steve asked.

"Many reasons," replied the younger man. "His mother and my father are brother and sister. Hector's father also works for the government, but is not as high up as my father." Pausing for a moment, Juan Carlos looked as though he was embarrassed about what he was saying. "I say it, and should not, but Hector does not have my talent for polo. He has played for many patrons for a season and then has to move on. My father will not have him on his team."

"I see," Steve commented. He kept an eye on Hector's back as the other man berated his groom for some slight.

"Then there is Icy," Juan Carlos added. "Hector wanted him, but his father could not afford to buy Icy. And, of course, there is Isabella."

"Isabella?" Steve queried, wondering if this was another horse.

"My fiancée," explained the other. "Hector wanted her, too, but she and I were childhood sweethearts and Isabella had not eyes for Hector."

"Do you think Hector would try and steal Icy?" Steve asked. He wondered why he had been unaware of this undercurrent before.

"I do not see what he would gain from it," Juan Carlos replied honestly. "If he did steal Icy, he would not be able to ride him in matches; the horse is too well known for that. He could not breed from Icy, as he is a gelding. I do not think that he could afford to pay someone to do it, either. I know my father helps to pay some of Hector's living costs."

"I see." Steve could not simply dismiss Hector's jealousy, though. It gave him a powerful, if irrational, motive to do Juan Carlos a bad turn.

"Let Hector glare," Juan Carlos said, buckling on his helmet and sounding more cheerful. "He is harmless." Clearly dismissing his cousin from his mind, he put his foot in the stirrup and swung effortlessly into the saddle. "Wish me luck," he requested.

"Good luck," Steve replied and Juan Carlos saluted him with his stick and rode onto the field.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The drugs provided a comfortable haze and Danny was quite content to drift on it. The pain in his shoulder was muted and his headache was quite far away. He was dimly aware of time passing, of people coming in to check on him, but there was no need for him to respond to them. When he was finally aware enough to open his eyes, it was afternoon.

As a result of the drugs and concussion, it took Danny a little while to reconstruct the circumstances that had landed him in hospital once again. The journey to the hospital was comprised of fragments – the jolting of the stretcher; Steve's anxious face and the wailing of the siren. He did vaguely remember talking to Doc about his shoulder and then things became blurry again. Danny guessed that was when his shoulder had been put back into place. His arm was firmly bound across his chest by miles of gauze. He was fairly comfortable and he slid back into sleep.

He was disturbed by the door opening and blinked his vision clear to find Doc looming over him. "Hi, Doc," he offered hoarsely.

"Don't 'hi' me," Doc retorted grumpily. "I've got better things to do than patch you up every other day, you know!" His gruff tones hid his relief that the young detective was not hurt any worse than he was.

"Sorry," Danny croaked.

"Have a drink and don't be sorry," Doc chided. He angled a straw towards his patient's mouth. "Just don't do it again and don't try to escape, agreed?"

"Agreed," Danny sighed. He hated being in hospital. "How'm I doing?" he asked, feeling a bit better for the water.

"Better than you have any right to if that story you told me is true. Did you really get thrown backwards off a horse?" Doc sat on the edge of the bed.

"Well, I slid part of the way down," Danny remembered. "Icy is a big horse; it was a long way to the ground."

"You could have broken your back," Doc commented. "You're badly bruised, but there are no broken bones."

"My back isn't really sore," Danny realised wonderingly.

"The amount of painkillers you've had would stop an elephant hurting," Doc teased.

Smiling back, Danny asked, "What about the guys who kidnapped Icy?"

"Superficial GSWs, both of them," Doc replied. "They've already been transferred to HPD lock-up." He patted Danny's arm. "Don't worry about them."

"Both of them," Danny echoed. He frowned, trying to pull up a memory. "Just two of them?"

"Just two," Doc nodded.

"That's…" There was … something … just beyond Danny's mental grasp. "Was there a body, too?" he asked.

"No," Doc replied, perplexed. "Danny, what's wrong?"

"Two," Danny gasped, inexplicably. "Only two? But, Doc, there were three." He gazed wide-eyed at the uncomprehending physician. It all came together for Danny in a rush. "One of them is still out there, and Steve doesn't know!" He threw the covers aside and made an effort to sit up. His whole body rebelled.

"Whoa! Take it easy!" Doc ordered. "Slow down!"

"There were three men who stole Icy," Danny explained, mentally urging Doc to understand and grasp the urgency of the situation. "One of them is still out there and Steve doesn't know about him! Doc, the only person who saw him was me! Juan Carlos could still be in danger! I've got to get out to the polo grounds!"

Doc took a couple of seconds to assess his patient, but it was clear this was not just an escape attempt. Danny was obviously distraught and Doc knew the young man well enough to realise that Danny was not putting this on. He made his decision at once.

"Let me get you some clothes."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The match was fast and furious and Steve was finding it almost impossible to follow Juan Carlos. The helmets with the face guards obscured the riders' features and the polo ponies all seemed to be the same colour as their coats darkened with sweat. They charged up and down the pitch, seemingly at random, sticks waving threateningly. It was a stunning spectacle, entertaining, exciting and utterly incomprehensible.

Behind Steve, the HPD officers watched the crowds. The spectators were not seated in bleachers for the most part, but in clusters around open car trunks or picnic rugs. Alcohol was flowing freely. There was a carnival atmosphere. Chin was circulating around the grounds while Kono watched over the stand-in grey. There was absolutely no sign of any potential trouble, but Steve's sixth sense was making his skin crawl.

The first chukka came to an end and the teams came in to change ponies. The grooms handed over fresh ponies before stripping the tack off the sweating, blowing ponies. As the riders gulped a little water before mounting, the grooms threw light rungs over the horses and began walking them around to cool them down.

The second chukka was just as exciting as the first one had been. By the end of it, the Argentinians were tied with the top American team who had flown in just for this match. They were based in Palm Springs and the team owner was an extremely wealthy politician. This was not the first time the two teams had met and currently Argentina was slightly ahead on match winning.

The first chukka ponies were all relaxing at the horse lines as the grooms began the task of cooling out the second ponies and the riders took charge of the third mount of the match. Steve's radar was still pinging, but he couldn't see any sign of trouble.

"Steve!" The shout was barely audible over the noise, but Steve had sharp ears. Turning, he saw that his ears had not deceived him. Walking doggedly towards him, supported by a grim-faced Doc, was Danny Williams. Instantly furious with both Danny and Doc – and more-so with Doc – Steve took several steps towards his second in command and demanded, "What are you doing here? Are you mad? Doc, what is the meaning of this?"

Too worried, tired and sore to be overly perturbed by Steve's ire, Danny delivered his important message. "There's a third man," he declared breathlessly. He rushed on before Steve could interrupt and tell him a phone call would have sufficed. "He's a haole," Danny explained. "I know what he looks like!"

"A description…" Steve began, but Danny's attention was drawn by a movement over Steve's shoulder. Juan Carlos had spotted Danny, taking a couple of steps towards him and smiling. Riders were milling about, waiting for Juan Carlos to mount and Danny realised that one of them was not wearing the deep blue polo shirt of the others. His shirt was light green. He was fumbling with something in his hands along with the reins. He looked up and Danny gasped.

"Look out!" Danny shouted and tried to lunge towards Juan Carlos, for the American rider had a gun in his hand, aimed at the Argentinian's back. Danny barely took a single step. Steve whirled instantly and Juan Carlos, puzzled, stood still. Steve knew he would not reach the younger man in time as he lunged for him.

They were not the only ones who were watching. Help came from an unexpected quarter; Juan Carlos' cousin Hector. He rugby-tackled his cousin around the knees and bore him to the ground. The gunshot cracked loudly, causing all the horses to startle. The bullet sang over Steve's shoulder and whistled past Danny's ear. Everyone around ducked.

"Stop him!" Steve shouted, drawing his gun.

In a flash, the gunman had turned his agile, fresh, pony and he fired a shot at 'Icy'. His horse was already in motion, moving smoothly from walk to canter as it had been taught. The bullet, unsurprisingly, missed the horse.

A man on a horse was always going to be able to outrun and out-manoeuvre a man on the ground. Steve had no realistic hopes of catching the would-be assassin. He hadn't counted, however, on Juan Carlos' outraged team mates, who were mounted on equally agile, fresh ponies. They sprang into action, pursuing the fleeing rider, who found himself under attack from not only the Argentinians, but his own outraged team mates. A deft swing of a stick broke the hand holding the gun and the chase was over as suddenly as it had begun. Steve, Chin and Kono raced over and pulled the injured man from his horse. The hand was clearly badly injured, but Steve had no sympathy for the man. He had planned to commit murder.

Reading the man his rights, Steve hauled the fellow to his feet and led him out of the melee of horses and men. Glancing across the grounds, he was relieved to find Danny sitting in a folding chair that had been produced from somewhere. Juan Carlos was talking to him. Until that moment, Steve had not been sure that Danny had escaped the bullet. Doc was also talking to Juan Carlos and Hector.

"Are you all right, Juan Carlos?" Steve asked, looking the younger man over.

"I am unhurt, thanks to Detective Williams," Juan Carlos replied. He stood up in a supple movement. "First you save Icy's life; now you save mine. I am deeply indebted to you, Detective Williams."

"I was just doing my job," Danny replied, smiling. He still looked too pale and wan to Steve's eye.

"I think otherwise, but I will argue no more."

"Who are you?" Steve demanded of his prisoner, but the man remained silent. "A member of the American team, obviously, but whom exactly?"

"He is David Martin, captain of the team," Juan Carlos informed him, curling his lip in contempt. "His father is the owner of the team."

"Senator Martin?" Steve was incredulous. "Is he here today?" The question was half rhetorical, and half aimed at Danny, who tended to have such details at his fingertips.

"I don't know," Danny admitted. He sounded as exhausted as he looked. "We weren't warned that he was coming, but that doesn't mean he isn't here as a private citizen."

"Is the horse all right?" Steve asked, his mind racing with all the possibilities of the situation.

"It just bit Kono, so I would guess so," Doc told him. He sounded amused.

"I must find out what is going to happen with the match now," Juan Carlos announced and strode over to the knot of riders, ponies and officials who were trying to decide if the match should proceed or not.

"Kono, I want you and Chin to stick to Juan Carlos," Steve ordered. Chin still held the prisoner's arm. Kono seemed none the worse for the bite from the grey. "Doc, Danno, Mr Martin and I are going to the hospital where Danno will return to bed and after that, I'll be at the Palace, questioning the prisoner."

"It looks as though someone will have to do some repair work first," Doc commented, looking at Martin's broken hand.

Impatiently, Steve nodded. He wanted to get onto the questioning right away, but knew that Martin had to have medical attention. "Let's go," he ordered, taking charge of Martin. The polo player, injured or not, gave Steve a glare.

"I won't talk," he warned Steve. "There's nothing you could do that would make me talk."

"I like a challenge," Steve commented lightly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They travelled in Doc's car. Steve sat in the back with the prisoner. Danny was utterly silent through the whole journey, his face growing even paler. Steve was furious that Danny had risked his health, yet thanks to Danny's determination, Juan Carlos' life had been spared and the potential murderer caught. Steve couldn't quibble with Danny's results – just his methods.

On their arrival at the hospital Steve temporarily handed Martin over to a uniformed officer and a doctor and helped Danny into a wheelchair and back to his room. While a nurse helped Danny back into a hospital gown and bed, Steve joined Doc at the nurses' station. He fixed the grizzly doctor with a basilisk stare. "What did you mean by bringing Danny to the polo grounds?" he demanded angrily. "You were the one insisting that Danno should make no breaks for freedom."

It was never fun to be on the receiving end of a blast of Steve's anger, but Doc was a worthy opponent. "Would you have been able to pick the suspect out of the crowds by a description alone?" he shot back. "Tall, well built, blond hair and blue eyes, with no distinguishing marks. How many people there fitted that description?"

"By agreeing, you put Danno's health at risk!" Steve countered, knowing he could not refute the doctor's argument.

"Steve, he isn't at death's door," Doc retorted. "Sure, a jaunt now was hardly in the doctor's orders, but he hasn't hurt himself. He needs rest to allow his body to start recovering from the battering it took, but he's fine. Exhausted, but a good night's sleep and a decent meal should see him trying to wheedle his way out of here tomorrow. I'd stake my reputation on it." He patted Steve's arm, recognising the worry that masqueraded as anger. "Try not to shout at him," he advised. "I'll come and get you when they are finished with Martin."

Composing himself as best he could, Steve slipped quietly into Danny's room as the nurse exited. She gave him a cool professional smile and Steve gritted his teeth as he nodded to her. He vowed silently to keep his temper.

"Hi, Steve," Danny offered. He was resting against several pillows and had a pillow supporting his injured arm/shoulder tucked against his stomach. He was still too pale for Steve's liking, but a trace of colour was returning to his cheeks. "I'm sorry for worrying you," he went on before Steve could say anything, "but I was the only person who had seen the third man and it wasn't like he had any outstanding features I could tell you about."

"I know, aikane," Steve replied soothingly. "I'm not angry now." He discovered, to his own surprise, that this statement was true; he was no longer angry.

"You're not?" Danny sounded surprised.

"No, I'm not," Steve confessed, "and I'm as surprised about that as you are, believe me!" He laughed.

"Good," Danny smiled. "I'm too tired to fight with you."

"I might argue with your methods," Steve commented, "but I can't argue with your results. Thanks to you, we caught a would-be murderer."

"I wonder why he did it," Danny mused, glad to get away from the subject of his culpability. "He's rich, successful…"

"We both know that those things don't make people happy, or stop them being jealous," Steve sighed. Speculation as to why people committed crimes could fill hours of time each day and never produce a satisfactory answer.

"Jealousy?" Danny echoed. "What…?" He blinked. "Do you think Martin is jealous of Juan Carlos? I mean, they are both young, good looking, successful and rich. They have a jet set life that many people would envy. Why would Martin be jealous of Juan Carlos?"

"I can think of a million-dollar reason," Steve replied quietly.

"Icy!" Danny breathed. "Juan Carlos owns Icy."

"We don't know that for sure," Steve agreed, "but I suspect we'll find that's the answer."

"But Martin tried to kill the horse he thought was Icy," Danny protested. "Why would he…? Oh." Comprehension dawned on the pale face. "If Martin couldn't have Icy, then no one else could either?"

"That would be my guess."

Their eyes met. "What if Senator Martin knew about this?" Danny asked. "What about his team mates? Did they know?"

"Judging by the reaction of his team mates, I would suggest they did not know," Steve suggested. "Of course, we will question them all. As for Senator Martin – your guess is as good as mine, Danno."

There was a knock on the door and the officer to whom Steve had entrusted Martin stuck his head around the door. "Mr Martin is in surgery getting his hand set," he reported. "The doctors say he won't get out before tomorrow."

"Thank you," Steve replied. "Don't let him out of your sight for a single minute."

"Yes, sir," the officer agreed and left.

It was incredibly frustrating, as Steve was itching to tackle Martin, but it would have to wait. However, he recalled, he now had more ammunition with which to tackle Martin's two accomplices, already in custody. He would also have to find out what the connection was, if any, between the 'waiter' they had arrested and Martin.

Danny's mind was running along the same lines. "You have the other men to question," he remembered. He sighed heavily and looked suddenly exhausted. "I wish I was going with you," he confessed.

"So do I, Danno," Steve agreed. "So do I!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While Chin quizzed the rest of the American team, Kono kept a close eye on Juan Carlos and Steve questioned the two men in custody. They were shaken by the news that Martin had been arrested and one man cracked and told Steve everything he knew, which wasn't much. Martin had recruited them through the 'waiter'. They had been paid $10,000 each for taking Icy and keeping him safe. They were meant to look after the horse for a few days while Martin extorted a ransom from Juan Carlos.

There had to be more to the puzzle, Steve thought. Clearly these men didn't know what it was. It seemed unlikely to Steve that Martin was really going to ransom the horse when he had set someone to murder Juan Carlos.

Seeking out the polo player, Steve found him with the rest of his team mates, having a meal. The match had been declared a draw and both teams had agreed to donate the not-inconsiderable prize money to an Hawaiian children's charity.

"How is Detective Williams?" he asked.

"He's resting, thank you," Steve replied. "I was wondering; is there a way to disguise a horse?"

"Of course," Juan Carlos agreed at once. "It is not difficult. All you need to do is change the colour."

"How do you do that?"

"Why, ordinary hair dye," came the reply. Juan Carlos looked keenly at Steve. "Do you think that Martin meant to change Icy's appearance?"

"Yes, I do. Do horses have passports?"

"Yes, but they are not checked as thoroughly as they probably ought to be each time," the younger man replied. "It would be very time consuming. Officials do not have the time to check each whorl of hair, along with socks, stockings, blazes, stars and snips."

"Wait; you've lost me," Steve told him. "Whorls I get, but socks?"

Smiling, Juan Carlos educated him. "A sock is a white area that comes no higher than the horse's fetlock – its ankle, if you like. Socks come to the knee and stockings go over the knee. A blaze covers most of the face with white. A star is a white patch between the eyes and a snip is a white patch anywhere else on the face, but usually on the muzzle." Steve nodded to show he understood. "If I were to steal a horse and disguise it, I would choose a horse with no white marks and dye the stolen horse the same colour."

"And since Martin would be shipping his string out, Icy could have been hidden amongst them in plain sight." Steve shook his head. "No, that wouldn't work. He couldn't leave with one more horse than he arrived with, could he?"

By now, the other riders were listening in. "That is easy to solve," one of them insisted. "He releases the original horse somewhere. It either roams free or someone finds it. Either way, the stolen horse is long gone and gets a new identity later. We are always buying new ponies."

Smiling his thanks, Steve said, "I'm glad you are all honest men." There was a chorus of laughter.

Leaving Kono on duty, Steve headed back to the Palace. He had been there a short while when he realised that he really had no work to do. He couldn't speak to Martin until the following day so he decided to head for home. He had just flipped off the light in his office when the phone rang. Hurrying back in, he snatched up the receiver. "McGarrett."

"Steve, its Duke." The familiar voice was not the one Steve had expected to hear.

"What can I do for you, Duke?" he asked.

"I thought you would like to know that Senator Martin landed at Honolulu about 40 minutes ago," Duke reported. "He has booked into the Ilikai."

"Thanks, Duke," Steve breathed. "Does he have an entourage with him?"

"My source says one protection officer only," Duke replied. "Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Increase security on the Ilikai and let me know if he goes anywhere. I'll be paying him a call in the morning. Thanks, Duke."

"Will do, Steve," Duke acknowledged.

Immediately, Steve contacted Chin and arranged for the American team to be kept confined for the night – no calls, no visitors, no leaving the floor of their hotel. Feeling buoyed by this news and the possibility of what it might mean, he went home for a good night's sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun was shining on another perfect day as Steve entered the Ilikai Hotel. He knew from the officers on duty that the Senator had not left the building. As he crossed the lobby to use the courtesy phone, he spotted Senator Martin leaving one of the elevators. He went straight to the dining room and took a seat. A waiter took his order as Steve helped himself to a cup of coffee from the buffet. As the waiter departed, Steve walked over and seated himself at the Senator's table.

"Who are you?" blustered the Senator. "There are plenty of other tables. Who do you think you are?"

"Steve McGarrett, Hawaii Five-O," Steve replied smoothly, showing his badge.

Clearly still annoyed, but wary now, the Senator snapped, "I am here as a private citizen, you know. I don't need police protection."

"I'm glad to hear that," Steve responded pleasantly. "I do, however, think it unlikely that you flew here so quickly in response to your son's phone call yesterday afternoon."

"What phone call?" Martin asked.

Feigning surprise, Steve replied, "I had assumed that your son used his one phone call after his arrest to call you. I know that he didn't call a lawyer, as a public defender had been assigned to his case as of last night."

"I had arranged to meet David here," the Senator explained stiffly. "We were going to look at some horses while we were here. What… what is the charge against my son?" he asked belatedly.

"Attempted murder and grand larceny," Steve informed him.

"What?" The bluster was gone and the Senator had lost colour. Steve would have bet a month's wages that it wasn't surprise that caused the loss of colour. He was positive it was caused by the horror of the plan going awry.

"Your son is currently in the hospital after requiring surgery on his hand," Steve went on, "but I fully expect him to be well enough to attend a preliminary hearing this afternoon. I shall, of course, oppose bail due to the serious nature of the charges against him." Steve rose. "I have arranged for a small police escort for your stay, Senator. I do hope you won't find their presence too onerous." He nodded to the stunned man and left the hotel. The interview had gone rather well he felt.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was clear from the interviews that had been done that none of the American team had known anything about Martin's nefarious activities. To a man, they had resigned from Senator Martin's polo team and were currently engaged on phoning various patrons around the world to find another slot. Steve had no need to keep them there after the hearing in the afternoon, where they would testify that they had witnessed Martin's attempt to murder Juan Carlos, and most of them were flying out with their horses that evening, as had originally been planned.

Now that they had Martin, Steve once more questioned the men he had in custody. While the 'waiter', Palakiki, remained bullishly silent, the others had told everything they knew. It was Kono who learned of the connection between the locals and Martin.

"Boss, a snitch jist tol' me that Palakiki ain't workin' for the mob no more," he reported via the radio. "He decided that he could do better on his own. This was his first gig."

"Well, he didn't do very well, did he?" Steve observed with satisfaction. "Thanks, Kono."

He had barely finished speaking with Kono when there was a knock on the door and Duke came in with a haole man, smartly dressed and clearly annoyed. "Steve, this is Victor Roberts. He had an appointment with David Martin this morning."

"Thanks, Duke." Steve did not yet see what this had to do with the case, but he trusted Duke. "Have a seat," he invited the man. "What was the nature of your appointment?" he asked.

"David Martin contacted me and arranged to try out some horses that I have for sale," Mr Roberts explained. "I breed and deal horses and I am quite successful." He named his place. Steve had heard of it. "But Martin didn't show up and when I phoned his hotel, I found myself speaking to Sergeant Lukela. He collected me and brought me here to speak to you."

"I see. Which of your horses was Martin interested in?" Steve asked.

"Several," Roberts replied. "I have quite a few novice polo ponies and he wanted to try them out."

This was making sense to Steve. "Are any of those animals all one colour, with no white?" he enquired.

"Why, yes, as it happens," Roberts replied, clearly surprised. "Two of them are."

"Can you describe them to me, please?" Steve asked. He flipped through his notebook until he found the page that had Icy's description on it.

Obviously baffled, Roberts obliged. "Random is 16 hands high, a solid bay with black points, mane and tail. He's a gelding."

"Black points?" Steve asked. "And how high is 16hh?"

"Black points means blacks legs up to the knees and some black on his withers – beneath the mane," Roberts explained. "A hand is approximately 4 inches."

"And the other?" Steve asked, noting these characteristics down.

"Glory is a liver chestnut, again 16hh and a gelding." He caught Steve's eye. "Can I ask why you want to know?"

"I'll be glad to explain," Steve agreed, "but first, would you mind if I brought someone out to your ranch to look at these two horses?"

"No, of course not," Roberts agreed. "But why?"

"I think perhaps a very famous horse was about to be passed off as one of the ones you are selling," Steve replied. "But I need an expert to confirm that for me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

An hour and a half later, Steve and Juan Carlos studied the two horses. Both were handsome animals, but Steve could see that they were slightly different shapes. Random, the bay, was sturdier in the body. Glory was leaner. Steve glanced at Juan Carlos. "Which one could have swapped with Icy?" he asked.

"The chestnut," Juan Carlos declared, confirming what Steve had suspected. "His breeding is similar, too." The Argentinian walked around the horse. "He has the same shape of head and dark hooves, like Icy has." Juan Carlos ran his hand down the animal's legs. "Good bone," he commented. "Can I try him?" he asked.

This was the final piece of the puzzle, Steve knew. He itched to go back to town to question Martin. He watched impatiently as Juan Carlos put the chestnut through its paces. He finally rode back. "I will buy him," he declared and a short time later, the deal was concluded.

"Will there be enough room in the airplane for Glory?" Steve asked.

"Oh yes," came the reply. "We always book a little extra space because you do not know when you might return with an extra horse."

"I see," Steve nodded. "Martin could just have added another horse without arousing suspicion." He shot a glance at his companion. "So you've got another horse for your string."

"Actually…" Juan Carlos blushed. "I bought him as a thank you for Hector. He saved my life yesterday and that Glory could be a very good horse. It is the least I can do."

"It's very generous of you," Steve declared.

Blushing even harder, Juan Carlos demurred.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Arriving at court, Steve was gratified to see that Senator Martin had not managed to shake off his escort. Kono arrived with David Martin, who appeared to be in good health, apart from the heavy plaster cast encasing his right hand. He was rather less pleased to find Danny Williams, formally dressed in a suit and tied, complete with sling and a much-paler-than-usual complexion. "What are you doing here?" Steve enquired, his tone less than welcoming.

"I'm a witness," Danny replied. "And before you ask, Doc knows I'm here and released me from the hospital."

"He hasn't said you can return to work, has he?" Steve asked, his tone implying dire torture should the answer be in the affirmative.

"No," Danny sighed disconsolately.

"Good!" Steve replied emphatically.

He led the way inside the building and met with his second surprise of the afternoon, the first having been Danny's presence. Senator Martin had apparently hired a lawyer for his son, but nobody had thought to notify the Public Defender, who was, quite naturally, rather put out. He was even more offended when the new lawyer demanded any notes the PD had made. For a few moments, it looked as though the two men were going to come to blows. In the end, the PD, being overworked and underpaid, was only too happy to jettison another case where his client was clearly guilty and handed over the said notes. Throughout the altercation, David Martin had retained his sangfroid, appearing rather amused, but his confidence faltered when he entered the court room and found his co-conspirators already there.

It was supposed to be a simple bail hearing. Steve had questioned Martin earlier, but Martin had refused to answer any questions. The PD had said not a word during the questioning and had exchanged jaded glances with Steve. Now, with the presence of Senator Martin sitting just behind his son, the judge was determined to ensure he got as much information as possible before he made his decision. As soon as politics entered into a case, things got very murky.

The new lawyer rose to his feet and gave an impassioned speech about what a fine, upstanding young man his client was and how he would prove all the charges to be false. He was reminded that this was a bail hearing, not the actual trial.

In his turn, John Manicote, the District Attorney, stated the charges against Martin concisely and added that they had witnesses willing to testify against the defendant. He was deemed a flight risk by the police and the DA and requested that bail be denied.

As soon as Manicote sat down, the other lawyer was on his feet, demanding to know who these witnesses were. As that information was in the notes that the PD had handed over, the DA was briskly sarcastic. Undaunted, the lawyer then demanded the right to question them.

"This isn't a trial," the judge snapped. "These men have identified your client as the person who hired them. We have a further witness who saw your client with these other men. There are a substantial number of witnesses who saw your client attempting to shoot Juan Carlos Santana."

"I haven't got a note of all the names," bluffed the lawyer, frantically trying to decipher the PD's appalling scrawl and idiosyncratic notes. "Who is this witness who saw my client with these other men?"

Across the court room, the judge made eye contact with Danny and indicated the witness stand. Stifling a sigh, Danny edged carefully to his feet and crossed the room. He sat down with caution and composed his features.

"Who are you?" demanded the lawyer.

"Detective Dan Williams, Hawaii Five-O," Danny replied. He could hardly believe the judge was allowing this farce to continue.

"Ah… Oh…" fumbled the lawyer.

That seemed to be the final straw for the judge. He banged his gavel. "The trial of David Martin will begin on Monday morning at nine am," he ruled. "Bail is denied. Court dismissed." He rose.

"All rise," intoned the bailiff and everyone obeyed. Danny stepped down from the witness stand and walked back towards Steve. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home and get out of his suit and tie and into something soft and comfortable. He noticed that David Martin was looking stunned; his father looked furious.

Moments too late, Steve realised what was about to happen. Senator Martin lunged at Danny, grabbing his good arm and dragging the hapless detective towards him. Steve leaped forward, but he was too late. The Senator practically threw Danny at the bailiff and shouted, "Run, David!"

All the cops and bailiffs sprang into action. Chin grabbed Senator Martin; Kono tackled David Martin and the bailiffs corralled the other prisoners. It was over in mere seconds.

Of them all, David Martin was the one who hadn't moved. He turned a white face towards his father. "Face it, Dad!" he cried. "It's over! We failed!"

"No! No!" the senator sobbed, struggling fruitlessly. "You could have gotten away!"

Fascinated though he was, Steve's attention was on his injured detective. "Danno!"

"I'm all right, Steve," Danny assured him breathlessly.

It was true. Although shaken and rather sore, the bailiff had had the presence of mind to catch Danny and cushion the injured man's fall with his own body. Danny's shoulder had been jarred, but not reinjured. Steve and Manicote helped Danny to his feet. The bailiff was also unhurt and waved away Danny's thanks.

Satisfied that his friend was all right, Steve placed Senator Martin under arrest for assault. David Martin straightened up. "I'd like to make a full confession, Mr McGarrett," he declared.

"David, no!" his father yelled. "We can beat this! Don't worry about me! They can't touch me!"

"It's over, Dad," David hissed. "Don't you get it? Your fancy lawyer can't get me out of this and neither can the fact that you're a senator. It's over!"

Sobbing incoherently, the Senator was led away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A couple of hours later, all the concerned parties gathered in Steve's office. Both Senator and David Martin were there, the former sullenly angry and silent. Their lawyer was present. John Manicote was there, along with Palakiki and his two accomplices. Much against Steve's will, Danny was also there, resting on the couch with Juan Carlos sitting beside him.

"I'd tried to buy Icicle Whirlwind several times," David explained. "The dealer didn't like me or my dad. He said I rode my horses to death and no amount of money would make him change his mind. Dad even had him beaten up, but he still refused to sell. Then he sold the horse to Juan Carlos, my biggest rival." He shot a look of intense dislike at the Argentinian. "We tried to get at the horse before, but it was always too difficult. Then we got invited here and I knew my chance had come."

"How did you meet Palakiki?" Steve asked.

"We got his name from a contact on the mainland," Martin explained. "He hired these two," he added, gesturing to the other men.

"Go on," Steve encouraged.

"The plan was simple," Martine said. "Palakiki would attack Juan Carlos. The others would get the horse. If Juan Carlos survived, I would send him a ransom note and he would pay and not get his horse back." He sneered as he saw Danny put a hand on Juan Carlos' arm. "I arranged to view some ponies while I was here and saw one that looked like Icy. Nobody would suspect. My plan was perfect." Martin glared at Danny. "What a pity you were not killed at the stables," he growled.

Danny flushed, and this time it was Juan Carlos' turn to put a hand on Danny's arm. Steve flicked a brief glance at him and Danny forced himself to relax.

"When the plan was ruined, I had to do something," Martin went on. "Dad said I had to get something out of this, as it had cost a fortune. I didn't know what to do, but I was so angry. I had a gun, so I thought I could kill Juan Carlos and then the horse would be for sale. But then, _he_ was there again," Martin snarled, gesturing to Danny, "and I missed my shot. My only chance then was to kill Icy. If I couldn't have him, then no one could. But I missed him, too," he concluded glumly.

"The grey horse wasn't Icy," Steve informed him. "Did you really think you could escape?"

"Dad has bought my way out for years," Martin replied. "He got me the best horses and team mates and got rid of my rivals."

"Shut up, you fool," Martin senior hissed venomously.

"Come on, Dad," David sighed. "Our luck has run out."

"We will be looking into everything you've told us," Steve said, snapping off the tape recorder. "We will inform the judge that you have cooperated, but I cannot promise that it will have any effect on your sentence."

When they had all left the office, Steve went over to Danny and Juan Carlos. "It is over," he announced. "Icy is safe."

"I cannot thank you enough," Juan Carlos replied. "You say it is your job, but it means so much more to me."

"It was our pleasure," Steve assured him.

Finally, it was just the Five-O detectives. "I think it's time you went home, Danno," Steve suggested, seeing how tired his young friend looked. "It's been quite a day."

"Sure has," Danny agreed, "but it was a good one."

"You pupule, bruddah," Kono declared. "You like bein' thrown around?"

"We're all pupule, bruddah," Steve assured him. "It's in the job description. And to prove it, I'll let us all go home early tonight."

"Who are you and what have you done with the real Steve?" Chin joked.

"Oh, get out of here before I change my mind," Steve retorted grinning. "Come on, Danno. I'll take you home."

"It was a good day," Danny said as he slowly negotiated the broad staircase.

"Yes," Steve agreed. "Indeed it was."

The End


End file.
